New York In December
by Emrys1411
Summary: Peter wasn't a father, but there were times when he sure as hell felt like one and that was all down to a certain convicted felon.  One-Shot. No slash! Father/son relationship.


**New York In December**

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><p><strong>AN**: I found this floating around my desktop, so I thought I'd upload it.

**Warning**: None except the characterisation may be a little off, but when I wrote this, I'd seen only a few episodes of White Collar, so that's my excuse :)

**Disclaimer**: I wish I owned White Collar, but I don't.

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><p><em>"It is not flesh and blood, but the heart which makes us fathers and sons."<em> -Johann Schiller

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><p>Peter wasn't sure when it happened. Or how, for that matter and at first, he didn't acknowledge it. It was stupid anyway, or so he told himself but Elizabeth, being her usual perceptive self, saw right through his worried gazes and knotted eyebrows. She knew exactly what was going through her husband's mind and she probably understood it better than he did.<p>

She certainly realised before he did.

"Hun, are you coming to bed?" Elizabeth Burke hovered on the bottom step of the stairs, shuddering slightly in the chill of a late December evening when the frost blanketed New York in a thick, white cocoon, the cold seeping into the cracks of the pavements and freezing the drain pipes.

Peter didn't react immediately, just balled his fists tighter and continued to stare at the laptop screen, watching the blinking red dot as it remained motionless.

Neal Caffrey wasn't moving and he hadn't moved for hours.

"Sorry, Elle, what did you say?" He shook his head, eyelids heavy, his muscles protesting as he twisted around to look at her. She smiled, gently, softly, before approaching him, her lips pressing against his cheek as she too watched the screen.

"Neal up to something?" It was a regular question, one they'd both come to accept and Peter shook his head slightly.

"I don't know what he's doing. He's been there, in that exact spot, for _four hours_ without moving."

"Where is he?" She leaned closer, reading the street name herself because that _was_ odd. There was nothing there besides houses and parking spaces and she wondered what would have Neal occupied for four hours straight. "I wonder what he's doing."

"I dread to think." But Peter didn't sound angry or suspicious. In the undertones of his rather harsh words, there lay concern. Worry. Elle picked up on it easily and sat down in the other chair, eyes narrowed as she watched her husband drum his fingers against the table top.

There was moment stillness when neither said anything.

Satchmo watched from his seat on the couch, one eye wide, ears slightly perked at the silence.

Still, the dot remained where it was.

"You're worried about him."

It was a statement, not a question and Peter blinked at it with a startled expression before he leaned back in his chair and forced his fingers to stop dancing. He wasn't going to deny it because Elle would pester and pester until he caved in and he wouldn't ever even try to lie to her.

She was too smart for that.

"I rang him a few times, but it went straight to voicemail." Peter picked up his phone, debating whether or not to ring again. It seemed pointless. If Neal didn't want to answer, then that was it.

"Was he acting okay today?" Elizabeth asked quietly as Satchmo heaved himself of the couch and wandered towards his humans, movement sluggish with sleep.

"Yeh, fine." Peter murmured as he thought about it. Neal had been extremely happy in fact. Even when they were stuck in the surveillance van on yet _another_ stake-out, he'd been humming merrily to himself. "He was fine. Should I…..?"

He trailed off, unsure of himself and Elle stood and he watched curiously as she pulled his coat from the rack and took his car keys of the hook. "It's cold outside, Hun. Maybe you should drive past, see what he's up too."

Peter nodded quickly and shrugged on his coat before kissing Elle as he gave her a one armed hug. She always knew what to do, how to do it. Peter had thought about it himself and then realised that Neal was an _adult_. He could look after himself; he knew what he was doing. As long as Neal was within his two mile radius and wasn't taking part in illegal activities, then it wasn't the agents concern.

But Peter Burke knew that deep down, Neal was _his_ responsibility.

_His_ consultant.

_His_ friend.

"Thanks, honey. Don't wait up." Peter said as he closed the door behind him and winced as the icy, sharp tang to the night air hit his skin. He jogged to the Taurus, arms outstretched in case the black ice made itself known and as soon as he was in the car, he turned the heating right up.

Damn, it was cold.

Neal had to choose that night, of all nights, to be a pain.

Neal didn't actually feel cold and he barely registered the fact that all he wore was one of his suits. It wasn't exactly appropriate clothing for such _low_ temperatures but he found himself not caring in the slightest. His fingertips had long since stopped hurting anyway and had turned a light shade of purpled-pink and he flexed them unconsciously, testing the ominous creaking of his joints.

The frost seemed to have penetrated his skin and seeped into his bones, settling there and consuming Neal like a fire does a house. But he had more important things to worry about.

Mozzie being very high up on the list.

There was something wrong with the little guy. Something very, _very _wrong and Neal for the life of him had no idea what it was.

Mozzie was _not_ violent. It wasn't in his nature so it was a mystery to both con men when the short man had lashed out and let his fist connect ceremoniously with Neal's jaw. It had hurt more than it should have and Neal had staggered before sliding gracelessly to the floor, hand clutching at his face, his ears ringing at the force of the punch.

Mozzie had stood there, frantic, in shock, before he tried to pull his friend up from the ground but Neal had shoved him away. He didn't need help getting up, he was _fine._

He was angry at Mozzie for hitting him.

He was livid at himself for letting him.

He was furious with whatever had made Mozzie do it in the first place.

Neal left pretty quickly after that, accepting his friend's apologies with tight, fake smiles before he found himself sat on a bench just inside his radius, his jaw aching considerably.

He just sat there. For hours, thinking about very little and everything and before he knew it, the early evening had disappeared and the sky had darkened to its usual orange glow of electricity and the temperature had plummeted below zero.

Neal Caffrey sighed, near enough choking on the bitterness of it all and he ignored the metallic tang of blood from his broken gum because none of it _mattered_.

His day had been going pretty well until that point.

It was then, as Neal continued to stare at the piece of chewing gum stuck to the pavement by his foot, that he noticed a car roll slowly past before drawing to a halt and parking across the road.

For some reason, it caught his interest and Neal was shocked to say the least when the door opened and Peter Burke struggled out, looking in his direction.

Neal couldn't see his face but he knew then that he was in trouble, so he folded the collar of his blazer up in the vain hope that it'd cover the bruise on his face that was surely blossoming there. He didn't need Peter to see that.

"Neal!" Peter walked quickly across the road until he stopped just in front of the younger, more idiotic man.

It didn't escape Peter's noticed just how_ terrible_ Neal Caffrey looked. Even in the shadows, he could see the sickly, pale pallor of his friend and the way he trembled so violently, that Peter could hear his teeth clanging together across the road. Neal's lips were almost as white as his skin, bleeding and chapped and the dazzling blue eyes that had most people melting at the con man's feet were glazed and glassy, but burned with this feverish brightness.

He looked horribly half-dead, huddled there on the bench and it made Peters heart constrict and burst in a rapid motion.

"Jesus, Neal!" Peter cried out with a series of swear words as he tugged off his own coat and wrapped it around the younger man's quaking shoulders as tightly as it would go. "What the hell are you doing out here? It's freezing, for heaven's sake!"

Neal grimaced slightly, his lips twisted at the corners in what looked like pain and Peter ran his hands over the others face to try and get his attention.

"Peter, what-"

"Neal, are you high or something?" The Agent scowled, but despite appearances, he wasn't frustrated at the other. He was just awfully _worried_ about him. What the hell would Neal have done if Peter hadn't turned up? Would he had stayed outside all night, caught his death and turned into Jack Frost?

Peter buttoned up the coat before pulling Neal up onto his shaking legs and he found himself having the half drag, half carry, the other towards the car because Neal was just too cold to work out which direction his legs wanted to move in. He stumbled, hands too numb to do anything but hold onto Peters sleeve and he closed his eyes as the agent bundled him into the car.

The heat hit Neal like a bullet hits the body.

It tore through his flesh and all the gooey stuff behind and he gasped, his lungs seizing, his chest screaming at the sudden _fiery_ warmth. It was stifling and he clenched his eyes shut again as he waited the few minutes of shock out as he began to regain feeling in his limbs.

"Neal? Neal? Are you alright?" Peter's hands were like furnaces and Neal wretched himself out of the man's grip and buried himself in the seat, desperate to escape the feeling of his blood pumping.

Peter was obviously pretty stressed by this point because in the light, Neal looked even worse than before. The dark, deep-set rings beneath his eyes stood out against his milky skin and it was then that Peter noticed the vivid bruise that started at the young man's jaw bone and worked its way up to his eye socket. It was an array of colours, like an artist's paint pallet and his cheek was slightly swollen too.

Peter swore he could see knuckle imprints.

"Neal, buddy, are you okay?" His voice took on a cautious whisper and his CI nodded through grated teeth, pushing himself forward towards the dash board so he could get closer to the heater.

"I'm fine, just a bit cold." Neal's voice quivered up and down and Peter turned the engine on before pulling away.

There was no way he was just going to drop Neal off at Junes, not until he knew what the hell was going on with him.

"What were you doing out there Neal?" Peter growled and Neal visibly winced at his tone.

"Nothing, just-"

"Just casually freezing to death?"

"It's not that cold-"

"Neal, you lips were turning friggin' _blue_!" Peter clenched the wheel in a vice like grip, sparing a glance at the young man who at least had the decency to look down at his feet. "Where did you get that bruise?"

Neal blushed slightly at that, the pink a stark contrast to his face and he muttered something incoherently in a hope Peter would let the whole thing drop. Did it really matter? It was nothing and Mozzie hadn't meant it and by the end of the week, it'd all be forgotten because Neal would find out what was wrong with his friend. Then he would fix it. That's the way it always went.

"Neal, you tell me right now or I swear, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Neal challenged, a growl all of his own.

Peter bit his lip to stop a hasty retort that he knew would make the situation worse, but apparently, Neal felt guilty for snapping.

"It's nothing…I just pissed off some guy and he decked me, but that's it, okay? I just needed some space."

"For four hours?"

"I might have known you were watching me."

"You keep giving me reasons too, Neal." Peter sighed, exasperated and he nearly jumped for joy when his house came into sight. The other remained silent and struggled to unbuckle his belt with his numb fingers as Peter parked and opened his door. The older man reached inside and did it for him, before man-handling him out in a very embarrassing way.

"I can walk to the door without your help, thank you, Peter."

"Sure you won't break into a thousand shards of ice?" The agent kept an arm around his shoulders and he wasn't surprised in the least to see Elle pull open the front door and usher them inside.

"Oh Neal! You're frozen, what were you doing?" She gave him a quick hug before drawing away and rushing around, pulling out various blankets from hidden places as Peter shoved him towards the couch.

The agent helped Neal shrug off his (borrowed) coat, blazer, dress shirt and tie before Elizabeth piled blankets around him, fully in mother hen mode by that point.

"Yes, what were you doing Neal?" Peter asked, a little bit gentler that time as he pushed his friend back against the coach. He tried to hide his concern, but failed miserably and Neal swallowed at the sound of it. He hadn't expected Peter to drive out and find him. He wasn't sure what he was doing in the first place. It was all one long blur of shivers, pain and remorse. But most of all, self-pity.

"I was…._thinking_."

It was then that Neal realised just how tired he was and he let his eyes drift closed, taking comfort in the sudden warmth and the quietness and the darkness behind his eye lids. With his chin on his chest, he focused on steadying his breathing as his heart continued to race rapidly in some frantic rhythm.

He heard Peter sigh deeply before settling next to him, one arm across Neal's shoulders to share some vital, most welcome warmth.

Neal Caffrey ignored the mutterings of Elle and Peter because he was too damn tired and being curled up there, besides his most trusted friend in a warm house and blankets made sure he was too comfortable _not_ to sleep.

So sleeping is exactly what he did.

Elizabeth exited the kitchen with a warm mug of tea in one hand and a hot water bottle in the other and she grinned at the sight of the ever so charming Neal Caffrey fast asleep on her husband's shoulder, lips slightly parted, hands clasping nimbly at the blankets, his dark hair unruly and draped across his forehead, his skin a healthier looking colour than a few minutes before.

He looked a little bit more alive, at least.

"What was he doing, hun?" She put the mug down and tucked the hot water bottle in Neal's arms as she sat on Peters other side, hand in hand.

"I don't know. He was just sat there, all still." Peter bit down on his lip and let his hand drift up to Neal's head, smoothing back some of the wild hair with his fingers. "He won't tell me where he got the bruise though. I'll ask him in the morning. He needs to sleep."

Elizabeth gleamed with pride and love for that man. He'd have made such a fantastic father. Devoted, loving, kind but most of all, accepting. Elle sighed at that. Maybe in another life, but some things just weren't meant to be, apparently. Fate had other plans for the Burke's. She'd accepted that, but oddly, Peter seemed to have redirected his paternal affections towards a certain felon.

She wondered if he'd noticed that.

Peter _had_ noticed. He noticed just how much of his time was spent worrying about the impossibly stubborn Neal Caffrey and how much his heart wrenched when he saw the man fall or get shot at or look remotely sad.

He wondered if that's what it felt like to be a father. To be so wrapped up in their safety, you forget about your own.

Peter frowned at that. He didn't think of Neal as his son exactly, he was too old for that, unless Peter had been a truly _reckless_ teenager.

But in some ways, Neal Caffrey had become the son he'd never had and the little brother he'd always wanted. A little of both, depending on the day.

Agent Peter Burke felt a smile tug at his lips at that thought.

It wasn't such a terrible thought but his head was hurting and he was incredibly sleepy, so perhaps it was a topic best left until the sun rose when everything was clearer

He noticed Elle was asleep and he let her fall against his side, her own personal pillow and for a little while, he could forget everything.

He had Elizabeth safe in one arm, Neal secure in the other and Satchmo lying across his feet.

And at that moment, all was _right_ in the world.

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><p>Reviews are love! Again, sorry for any OOC-ness.<p> 


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